heromuxfandomcom-20200216-history
2012-08-25 Emet To Met
The New York Habor is one of the largest harbors in the world, it's mazes of container ships, warehourses, various buildings, strings of fencing, and traffic both aquatic and otherwise seems like chaos to the general eye, but those who know the inner workings know better. Jackie steps out of the limo, his eyes narrowing in the waning sunlight, his fingers deftly flicking open the buttons on his suit coat as his long over coat billows in a light breeze. He looks around, one way, then the other, "Clear." he says simply, stepping the rest of the way out of the door and taking a step behind the shorter, fater, more cliched Italian mobster that climbs out after him. "Fuckin' hate the docks Jackie boy." the man growls in a thick New York accent. "Fuckin' hate every piece of 'em. They smell, you have to work with these idiot mooks, all in all... only worth the time for the money." he spits to the side and turns, leading Jackie and another man. The group heads towards a small building set right on the water, a few cranes looming high over head casting scarecrow like shadows over the water and the long peirs that jut like fingers from the habor proper. The wind smells of the rot of the Hudson river and where it pours it's filth into the ocean, carrying away the debris of human waste and civilization that fairly saturates it. The setting sun almost makes it pretty, lighting the water on fire with golds and oranges, and all of that, ugliness and beauty alike, are lost on the trio of men heading into the building. "Uncle, I'm getting that feeling." Jackie mutters low under his breath, the shorter fatter man eyes Jackie for a moment, then spits again and reaches into his coat, making sure his gun is loose. "You see anything, you know what to do. Hear that Tony? Jackie has the itch." it doesn't sound like a joke, Jackie's 'itches' are fairly well known. Namor has been coming upriver for a little bit now. He has been following the source of the pollution that had cut short his brief time up to the surface. He moves through the water quite effortlessly but is taking care to avoid the worst of the pollution in the water. He pays little attention, at the moment, for the goings on of man up on the docks. It has been a long time since he came this close to the city, and he prefers to keep it that way for as long as he can. So it's not exactly /safe/ to do what a certain woman has thoughts of doing. /Had/ thoughts of doing, actually. Now, she realizes, she's /doing/ it. Following gangsters down to the docks? It pays to have a few people who know a few people who know a few people and want some favors, sure, but really, it's not exactly /safe/, as mentioned before. So, the reason this particular woman is in the area? The people of people of people who want favors noted that this was not going to be just /any/ trip to the docks. There wasn't a specification on who, or what, or why, but there was that tiny gleam someone gets when they suspect something big is going down. Big is Passwall's game. Or she likes to think so. Hiding, to the best of her abilities, in the nearby shadows. Well, her head is there, anyway. The wall she's peeking out of is slightly rippled, like her head being forced through has created ripples in the water. But all that's in shadow, and so only someone who has pretty good vision could see her... She hopes. Rain's legally homeless, but once before, she was a lot more literal homeless. This means sometimes checking in on the regulars. Healing for sandwiches, making sure the old homeless folks aren't hurting too badly... it's a humble line of work, but even with who she's met, she doesn't seem eager to ditch checking in on the usuals around town. She's pretty good at moving around boxes, a gift born of poverty and also not running into things. It's handy. Maybe she randomly befriended some of the seagulls or a worker or two. People love folks who can fix a broken limb fast. And she won't take the leg after as payment. Bonus! Or your first born because frankly, stealing someone's kid seems more trouble than it's worth. Sea gulls are also far more flammable than pigeons. Ahem. Regarldess, she slinks along like a ferret tied to a slinky down an escalator. ... voices? It's decidedly not safe to follow gangsters, to follow Frankie 'Kill The Children Too' Franchetti it's borderline suicide. The man is protected from on high, and well protected, and his enemies don't just vanish, their kids vanish, their servants vanish, their pets vanish, people who sell them morning coffee and a paper vanish. Franchetti is the sort of mobster who doesn't crush opposition, he burns it to ash and salts the earth it once stood upon. None are more ruthless, more merciless, more violent, or more connected. Following him isn't not safe. It's stupid. Franchetti and his two goons, one of whom is shockingly good looking and with exceptional hair, according to powerful magi, head into the building, not bothering to knock. The thicker, less pretty, more heavily muscled of the pair stays outside the door, arms like tree trunks crossed over a chest the width of a Honda. Silence. The western most wall of the cheap quick build office explodes in a shower of drywall and cheap siding, "CAR!!" Jackie bellows, shoving the shorter fatter man through the hole, "GO GO GO!!" he hollars. The cracking boom of gunfire fills the air and holes begin appearing at random in the office walls, lead spraying through them like tissue paper and pinging off concrete, nearby shipping containers, and kicking up roster tails of water in the river. Frankie Franchetti struggles to his feet and the thick linebacker bodyguard instantly moves towards the boss, a sawed off shotgun sliding up out of his coat and held like he knows how to use it. He waves an arm for Frankie to run. Namor is caught by surprise by the sudden explosions and gun fire. He turns his head, but remains low in the water. In the dying light of day, his small head is lost in the colors dancing on the river unless someone is looking for him. There is a slight snort that disrupts the water in front of his face as he watches the exchange up on the dock. Still, he waits for a bit longer although he is moving closer to the shore now as he observes. Bullets, explosions... Yet the head from the wall in the shadows doesn't move. Apparently, she's not afraid of the danger, for reasons known to her and possibly someone who could understand how her X-gene works. But that's all guesswork, as she still is quite /hidey-hide/. She stares, almost without blinking, at the action, taking note of faces and names, if said. So far, she's only gathered a small bit of who's who, but it's enough to pique her interest. A /lot/. Waitaminute. Enchanted seagulls? Squint. Caaaaaaaarefully Rain peeks out around a box at the noises. Where is it...? It had totally better not be an enchanted adult magazine or seagull. Because that would be her luck in New York. Nevertheless, much like the fabled cat, Rain is now very curious. She squints, peering under the brim of her hat - violence! Keep head down. It's wiser to divine - okay, magic, magic... To say it's hard to concentrate would be like calling the docks 'unpleasantly scented'. It's understatement so massive, the British might stop and blink. Her magic is subtle, but slow to build. Will working is go! Just gotta ignore the glass, and horrible death and - okay, yeah, this isn't easy. Scampering to the nearest intact box, she leans against it to listen while she casts, but she looks pretty zoned as if someone brained her over the head with a frying pan. She's worried and afraid, but ... curiousity seems to be winning. Frankie and the big thug run for the car, Frankie firing shots blindly into the office where Jackie remains, apparently unconcerned about hitting his own man, the big guy keeps looking over his shoulder, eyeing the building as if waiting to unload on it. When the car door opens Franchetti is unceremoniously thrown inside by the big man before he turns to fire the shotgun dry, blasting holes through the building's door large enough to see through. Then he tosses the shotgun in and jumps in after his boss. The limo's engine roars and it starts to pull away. The sunroof opens and Franchetti's head pokes back out, "YOU BURN IT DOWN JACKIE! YOU BURN THIS MOTHAH FUCKAH TO FUCKIN' ASHES! YAH HERE ME BOY!? BURN IT ALL!!!" His fat face is purple with rage, veins clear against his skin, spittle flying from his lips as the limo heads towards the fenced gate with a speed that suggests it's not slowing down to open it first. Inside the building the sounds of continued combat sound, crashes, bangs, and then finally the door to the building explodes and Jackie comes sailing through, as if thrown by a trebuchet. The door splits in half, one part going with the enforced to the concrete of the habor, the other half hanging off of the frame at a drunken angle. Jackie lands and skids a full ten feet before coming to a stop, his body limp and turned atop the half of the door that was his traveling partner. A man to large to be called that steps through the door, shouldering it's remains aside nonchalantly. He tosses a pistol away with a contemptuous flick of his wrist, letting it spark along the concrete until the river swallows it with a soft 'plop'. "Hey pretty boy." the giant growls with a grin, his lip split, "They said yous was tough. Hard. Seem more," he cracks his knuckles with a giant hand, "puddingy in consistency if you ask me." there's something dark on the big man's shirt from what may be a bullet hole in his shoulder, but he doesn't seem to notice and he's obviously taken a few shots. Jackie flops over on his back and stares up at the sky, "S'okay." he slurs softly, "I'm sure you're used to being wrong, this is another one of those things you'll eventually get over." His face is matted with blood as well, and it looks like he's taken the business end of a ball bat to his once pretty features. The giant reaches down and picks Jackie up with one hand fisted in the smaller man's suit, "You won't." the giant states evenly. If one is close, they may notice the giant... moves oddly. Hard to see in the dying light though. For the moment, Namor has seen enough. There is a splash from the river as Namor launches himself upward into the air and flying towards the dock. He lands slightly behind Jackie so that Giant can see the Atlantean land on the dock. In a voice that seems to boom even when he speaks in a normal tone, "I detest the large beating on the helpless. If the man deserves a beating, he has received one. I cannot just let you kill him while I am here. Put him down." Wow. Dude is /pissed/. Few folks manage up a fury like New York mafia, one guesses. Rain stays by her box, though, likely familiar with the Craze of the Cabbie and not wanting to see the upgraded version. Divining, divining in progress... she sort of wishes these sort of things had a timer bar. Sadly, they do not. Or with her luck, it'd be one of the ones stuck at 99 percent for hours. Waitaminute, it's right the-- ... Out of surprise, she pokes her head over the box. "Oh /wow/. That'd do it. I've never seen one of those before." Headtilt. "..." What would mom, talented witch do? Squint. Hmm. Then she realizes she just blew her cover. "Uh. That's um... I think that's someone's ... someone's servant..." There's more to it than that, but this is about as many words as Rain manages in a good moment. Dull gray eyes turn to stare at Namor, empty and cold. This close it's easier to see that the eyes are literally dull and gray. All of them. From edge to edge. They are also the exact same flat matte color of their lids, his nose, his face... his skin in general. The man staring at Namor isn't a man at all, it's something made of earth. Mud or clay maybe, with some sort of sigil stamped on it's forehead. It really is a giant, larger and thicker and more mounded then a man should be, with over exaggerated muscles. It is this way because it's not a man at all. The lifeless face stares at Namor, and then breaks into a grin, the split in it's lip sealing closed even as it smiles, "Go back to the waters where you belong fishy. You play in a realm not your own and with forces you do not understand. He does not deserve a beating," the golem's eyes return to Jackie, "this murderer deserves death." and he raises back a giant gray fist. Jackie turns his swollen and battered features back to see Namor as he speaks, and he blinks. "Save me Mr. Spock, you're my only hope!" he blinks again, "I just committed sacrilege, may Roddenberry and Lucas strike me down." As the giant fist flicks towards his face quickly, Jackie shrugs and drops out of the trenchcoat and suit jacket the golem was holding in it's fist, and drops to the concrete between the two muscle bound 'men' on either side of him. He leaves Namor's face in place of his own to take the hit if the water breather doesn't move of course. He rolls onto his side and starts to crawl away, spitting something thick and globby off to the side as he does. His 'scramble for freedom' is slow and pathetic. From any further away then Namor, it's impossible to see the details of the giant clearly, well, except that it's huge and scary strong. "You underestimate the Avenging Son as so many of your ilk have done in the past, Giant." Namor steps forward even as Jackie drops out of his trenchcoat. His hands come up to grab at the creature's arm as it swings. He gets hold, but he is apparently guilty of the same thing he just accused the creature of. The power and momentum of the Golem's fist carries Namor. While it doesn't strike the Prince's face, it slams him down into the ground and sending him crashing through the wall of one of the steel containers waiting to be loaded on a morning cargo ship. "Daaaaaaaaaayum!" Yeah, that's a /smart/ word to use at this point, thanks a lot Passwall. "You... Wow, /damn/! Man, you must work out!" She almost looks excited to see that kind of strength, jumping in front of the giant a bit. "Oh dude, try me! Try me!" What, is she suicidal? "Bet I can stand after a punch like that! And if you don't, I'll just... Y'know. Have to help mister 'on my ass' over there to get away. Which, y'know, ain't a half-bad idea anyway. Kinda cute." She shakes her head, chuckling, hands on her hips. "C'mon, big guy! Made of stone, slow as one in the head too?" Taunting! Oh, how dangerously she lives. And if she's wrong, how dangerously she gets the /crap/ knocked out of her. "I think that's a golem, actually." Peer. Rain tilts her hat back. Wait, is that - "... oh wow, Spock, that's awesome." Yup. She's a nerd. Wait. Poor Spock just got punched out by the golems. Sigh. On one hand, there's likely a reason Jackie's getting golemnownt. On the other, she's been a pretty mercenary will heal 4 food, no questions asked sort, so - here goes nothing. "Wait, what do you mean sacrilege?" This could tilt how the fight goes. "If this guy's got divine backing..." Then she blinks at Passwall. Um. Hmm. On one hand, firing magic gun blasts with people in melee is a bad idea... on the other, her other option is - "Oh geez." Actual human contact. She'll at least reach out and try to pull Jackie out of the melee. She's awkward as ever, but helpful. Ish. The golem pauses, eyes the hole Namor left, "My appologies water-son. But your place is among the waves, you should stay there." the golem almost sounds appologetic. Then it's features turn towards the crawling Jackie and it's smile returns, "To where to you flee murderer?" he asks as it begins to stalk towards Jackie, it's footsteps actually leaving small tremors in the concrete one can feel through their feet. It ignores Passwall for now, she is a small girl and not really a threat obviously, and it's mission is part of it's being, it cannot ignore Jackie. That is, until she mentions helping him escape. His dull gaze falls to the girl now, "You would aid a taker of life?" he asks, shocked. "It is as if you are all diseased." the words, this close, are oddly accented, a bit of New York in them, a touch of something... else. The golem extends a hand as if to brush the girl aside nonchalantly. Jackie continues to crawl, headed for the relative safety of the long cast shadows of the giant over head cranes, and his scramble now involves a shamble to his feet, one arm curled about his stomach. He limps heavily, but as quickly as he can towards the crane. The hand that grabs him and pulls tips him on his balance ever so slightly and he ends up fall/leaning into Rain with a soft 'oaf!' sound that wheezes from his lungs with a wet noise. "Ow." he states, shooting her a look. "Hey adorable." he manages, adding a bloody toothed grin, "When we manage a daring escape, wanna come play doctor?" What? A guy can't flirt while he's being hunted to death by a giant magical construct? What kind of world would that be? A bad one, that's what kind. "Imperius Rex!" This time it is boomed off the dockyard as the container that Namor had been knocked into is split open as Namor comes sailing just off the ground. He sees the creature turning its attention towards Passwall. "If I shall return to the waters, you shall return to the Earth, creature!" He comes barrelling up behind the golem swinging his fist towards the creatures back trying to knock it away before it can harm the young woman before it. Passwall kind of just stands there, a pinkie cleaning out her right ear with a blaise look on her face, as the hand comes at her... Then through her? "Yeah, not gonna work, big guy. Listen, rockface, I'm kinda getting bored, so either you take me seriously, or I walk up and pull an earthen organ out of your chest one by one until I find something fun." Holy /crap/, now that's a threat. But she also looks slightly concerned about the fact that she doesn't know if she's /able/ to do it, for one. A hand is waved back to Namor. "Naw, you come back and get hit again, worked out so well the first time." Oh, now she's taunting the /other/ team? Whose side is she on?! And then the purple-eyed girl comes into view, and she frowns. Oh, hell. Competition. "Oi, you, lady, make sure to save some of his flirting for me, I actually /like/ guys!" Frankly, it's a wonder that bears or pterodactyls haven't gotten Rain yet. She's Darwin's little counter argument. Rain eeps as he leans/falls into her. She manages not to fall over, and goes 7 shades of bright red as he offers to play doctor. "Um. I was just gonna offer a healing spell, actually." She's painfully shy at points and flirting is a rather remarkable weak point in the armor. "Just - give me a moment," She'll try to lead over towards some cover. Will-working isn't easy and he might just notice she has two guns holstered at her waist. At Passwall's words, she looks a bit hurt and worried. "Um... what? I like guys, too but ... I - wasn't going to let someone get squished..." Apparently Rain is pretty pragmatic. "... I can't say who someone should or can or can't flirt with ... I'm sorry ... but I have to concentrate for a moment," She looks guilty that he hit on her. Actually, she's shying away from it even more now, lest she irritate someone. Some competition. She looks zoned now, actually, as she works on preparing a bit of healing. It won't go off for awhile - not this moment, certainly. It's an unusual magic, and one of her hands rests, almost as if checking or reassuring herself her pistols are there. She channels magic through her guns, much like a wand or focus, if anyone pays attention to that. Still, it's a bit eerie seeing her look so zoned and serene now. "If you do not wish to be healed, please tell me now." The golem looks confused for a half a second that Passwall can see it's face, and then it's hurtling like a freshly fired cannonball. It sails over Jackie and Rain at a few dozen miles an hour and then impacts the base of the crane that Jackie was going to use as cover, crumpling the concrete and steel there with a sound of thunder and twisting metal. High above, the crane lists clumsily to one side, a groan of twisted iron raking across the ears of everyone present. Jackie blinks his open eye and turns his head to eye Namor, "Mr. Spock's been working out." he mutters under his breath. From debris there is the sound of tumbling rocks and more twisting iron as something inside of the ruined crane's base begins to move. "Well... that's not good." Jackie's eye goes to the setting sun. "You need to go." he says firmly, glancing down at Rain, his teasing and flirting tone vanishing. "Get me to the shadows." he can hear the whispers in his head. The snickers and manic giggles are growing louder, the scratch of claws on stone and the slither of scales on steel. The sun is moments from vanishing, and with it goes any hope he has of holding back The Darkness. Even as she gathers the magic she can feel it... he's resisting it. Something about him sloughs what energies her spell gathers off of him like rain sliding down a pane of glass. Not that she's directed it yet, but it would be hard to push the magic at him, into him, like shoving her hand through wet sand to the bottom of a bucket. "Hurry." He looks back at the people helping him, "Run!" he shouts, "It cannot be stopped, just run!" Well... Spock might be able to. But Jackie's not willing to take that chance, and this whole meeting got way to complicated way to fast. And he's running out of time. Namor looks at Jackie for a moment and then is lifting up into the air slightly. "Yes, run. I shall hold it off and," he looks up at the tittering crane above him, "make sure that no one will come to harm here." His gaze goes from Jackie to Rain and then over to Passwell. "If it can be stopped, I shall. Now do as he says. Run." He looks once at where the creature went, but then flies straight upward toward the crane as he will attempt to knock the damaged machine into the river. "Awww, come on, he didn't even touch me! The guy's not /gonna/! He's..." The 'intangible' woman looks over to Jackie. And raises an eyebrow. "You know what? That's just creepy." She shakes her head, hands on her hips. "Not the shadows thing. I mean yeah, that's... Different. But the guy actually said 'cannot'. Anyone else hearing this?" Her hands are outstretched towards Jackie, a good ten feet away, in a 'look at this motherf-' way, as her head is turned back to look at Namor... Oh, well, he's flying. "...Oh, yeah. Fish-man can /fly/, oh that's fair. Cordy, whatcha gonna do today," she mumbles to herself, "walk through a wall. No, that's cool. Then I'm gonna go be jealous of a fish-dude." Her hands go up in the air with frustration, as she heads towards the city proper with a slow gait. "Un-fuckin'-fair, I tell ya." She even kicks a rock, she's so mad. "..." A flying golem. And then the crane. Her eyes widen. "... wow." Spock IS kicking ass and taking names. Rain is boggled. Also, she does cancel the spell rather than try to push the issue. She's thoughtful about issues of consent. She frowns. "Well, I was kinda worried about Mr. Spock, but I think he'll be okay..." Right, moving away. Rain'll get squished or drowned if she sticks around. She seems surprised though, by - is it the setting sun or the crane...? Hmm. She'll think about it later, as if she croaks, she'll be too busy pining for fjords. She looks over her shoulder, eyes widen. "Umm. I'm sure he'd hit on you if we weren't about to die! Horribly because drowning or squishing is kinda slow, but ... wow that's amazingly creepy ..." She turns red, looks a little wide-eyed and resumes moving in the general direction of - wait, Spock can FLY!? What CAN'T Spock do? "... I'm making it worse again ..." And now she's quiet. Running is apparently not her strong point, but pulling out the flying broom in view of people might get weird. A chunk of concrete the size of an engine block sails through the air at the speed of a bullet, intent on intercepting Namor mid flight, a 2500 lbs missle with broken rebar spikes sticking from it like caltrop spikes. From the wreckage beneath the crane, the golem begins to extricate itself, the cuts and gashes across it's 'skin' ooze something dark and grainy, but even as it pulls itself free the 'wounds' begin to close leaving only the grainy stains behind. He reaches out to pull a steel girder from it's lower mid section slowly, a soft wet, earthy sucking sound issueing from the metal. Jackie, with Rain's help, makes it to the shadows and then turns to look at her with eyes glowing with a soft yellow light all their own. "You don't want to be here-" his voice changes mid sentence, There's something otherworldly about it now, and not at all breathless. Just then, the sun drops below the horizon, the last of it's yellow golden glow fading from sight, vanishing and pitching the world into night. The glowing eyes raise, as if their owner were standing, and continue to stare at Rain, their owner says again, and this time they carry the weight of command, of power. In the darkness something slithers over and around her ankle, something as sinewous as a serpent but as big around at a telephone pole and with a texture like wet rubber. The shadows have swallowed the world, chased away only by the pools of light cast by the over head emergency chemical lights. Apparently the destruction of the office did something to the power grid in the area, because the big industrial halogen super lights, meant to light up this entire section of the harbor, are oddly still. There's the scrapping of claws on concrete and a prickling sensation up Passwall's leg as well, something like fingers curling around her calf for a moment before releasing her, much like a child in a rush might push itself around the legs of an adult standing in it's way in a crowd. The sound, the sensation, of movement and pressing bodies all around the girls grows exponentially, and with it comes whispers of laughter, soft gleeful giggles of madness. The golem tosses the girder aside and finds it's feet with a THUD that sends another tremor through the harbor, "Murderer! You cannot escape me!" it bellows with a sound like thunder. Namor was intent on the crane above him and did not see the missive sent towards him with such force. He is struck in the side and with a cry of pain goes toppling out of the sky and crashes back to the ground with a thud. He is still for a few long moments before he is moving again. He is slowly climbing to his feet. All his attention is now on the golem. He fails to see the shift in Jackie or even really notice the lack of sunlight. This creature is his sole goal now. The shadows all around was one thing. I mean, who /wouldn't/ notice that? Better yet, what person in their right mind would /stay/? Turning to Jackie, Passwall looks about to say something before that thing touches her leg. Shiver down spine is a go, captain. "Whoa, hold the f-" But again, she's interrupted by something even more disturbing! That golem, which was just /knocked the hell out/ by Namor, AKA fish-dude, was up and sent Namor a little gift. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the split second crunch, the few seconds stillness, and then he's /up again/. Passwall knows when it's time. "Hey uh. Purple-eye chick. Not to be uh... Melodramatic, or whatever? But boytoy there's speaking all creepy-like, he wants us to run, and those two up there are throwing shit the size of cars like they were playing /very angry baseball/. My suggestion? Off is the general direction in which we should fuck." With that, she /sprints/ towards the nearest 'safe place', which means 'away from here', as fast as she can. Nothing doing about the golem, or even hiding in a nearby building. With those two brawling it out, the buildings are likely to crumble anyway. Not a good hiding place. Running never was Rain's strong point, although given the company she keeps, it probably should move up the ole priority ladder a notch or two. She looks more than a little concerned at Jackie's eyes glowing and - wait. That's not - for all the humor the universe inflicts upon the hapless witch, it's a moment of surprise. Shadows have their place, it's true. There's also a brief look of fear. Shadows once haunted mankind, hiding all of the awful things people did, the things that spirited you off, the hunters... well. "Okay." And she boggles at the golem and Namor fight. "I'm running," She promises Passwall. Concern crosses Rain's features, though she does shake her ankle and run in the general direction of -away- for now. She actually moves at a pretty decent clip once she's shaken her ankle loose. Jackie watches Rain go and a sigh slips through the organic mask like thing that's grown over his face. He can feel it, the Darkness, slideing over his body, leeching into and out of his wounds, closing them, sealing them, fixing it's host. He closes his eyes, a sort of sadness setteling on him for a moment as the two girls, innocent girls, nice girls, who tried to help him now flee in what he reads as fear. He's used to people fearing him, but it's thug fear, not bone deep spiritual fear. That... he's still getting used to. The armor finishes it's crawl over his form and he holds out a hand, the long slim wind of something dark, toothed, and alive curls around the limb possessively. <> the night itself hisses, speaking to Jackie but doing nothing to hide it's presence from Namor or the golem. Jackie is silent as he seems to float over the ground towards Namor. In the pitch blackness around him eyes begin to appear, two, ten, two dozen, a veritable army of small yellowish pin pricks in the shadows. As he slides past one of the soft yellow chemical lights, anyone watching can now see The Darkness and his personal army of... things. He comes to a stop next to Namor, the pair eyeing the golem, the otherworldly voice says to Namor, , the man in armor says, his words cutting through the water as if it were no different then speaking on the surface, not something many can do, he looks down towards the murky depths of the river, eyes begin to appear in the water around the man, eyes attached to things that look like the fish of Atlantean nightmares, horror stories of creatures long dead and passed, and his yellow eyes narrow, he clarifies, just so make sure Namor knows it's not an open invitation... and then he simply melts away, his form seeming to disappear much like the golem's did, until only the glowing eyes remain until even they vanish. Within the hour that entire peir of the harbor is aflame. Reports the following day will say that a band of oddly clothed 'little people' in 'costumes' carrying gallons of gasoline and fuel tanks set fire to the pier, burning it to the ground and leaving nothing in it's wake. No bodies will be found, no remains, and a few explosions seem to have left little evidence of what was responcible for the blaze. No gangs of costumed 'little people' can be found by asking the NYPD, who merely shake their head and make jokes about luchadores. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs